Journey
by Shaturu
Summary: He stared through the slit in his helm into Erza's flat, empty eyes, even as she did so with him, matching the intensity of his stare with an equally great, unwavering force.


_**Journey**_

**A Story inspired by Hiro Mashima's _Fairy Tail_**

**1. Recollection**

* * *

King Mystogan gripped his hands around the railing of the balcony, leaned over the edge, and sighed. This released the tension which had swelled up in his chest, and allowed him to turn his mind in other, less troubling directions.

Yet always he returned to the same set of doubts, worrying at them like a dog mauling over a marrow bone, only with nothing to show for it other than a constant and increasing sense of anxiety.

_It can't be helped_, he thought. He held the most stressful job in the world, after all. The worries, concerns, and misfortunes of his people were all of his own, as well. Sometimes, he felt it aged him, bringing him ever closer to an unsettling, premature death. Yet it was a burden he accepted almost three years ago, when he parted ways with his friends from Earthland and accepted the crown.

He slowed his breathing. _Relax_, he told himself, closing his eyes.

A faint, salty breeze wafted nearby. He turned his face to catch the draft, welcoming the touch of cool air against his fevered skin.

Tired as he was, King Mystogan savored the magnificence of the view below him: the bustling streets and alleyways, the crowded shops and markets, and the dozens of houses, churches, and other buildings clustered within the city walls. From afar, he observed the miners and blacksmiths working at their forges, the shipwrights reviewing their sketches of their latest blueprints by the docks, the clothiers knitting fabrics at their shops, and the merchants bartering with city folk at the town square. He also noted the bards who strummed their lutes and sang of old tales of great heroes, beautiful women, and mythical creatures. Everything was so lively. For a moment, it all made him wonder what it would be like to have a normal life.

He almost immediately shrugged off the ludicrous idea, finding no reason to delve into such fantasies. He was the king of Edolas, the farthest thing one could be from _normal_.

He sighed again, rubbing his face. He had so many pent-up emotions; he hadn't a clue how to deal with them all.

In another attempt at clearing his troubled mind, he focused his gaze on a group of small children off in one of the alleyways. They appeared to be playing a game of hopscotch. Their cheers and chants, and the great big smiles on each of their faces, brought him something resemblant of a smile.

_Three years, huh. _

It was difficult to believe how much time had already passed. It made him wonder, what _had_ he accomplished?

He had displaced Byro, for his heinous crimes, as the chief of staff, and appointed former councilman Lahar in his place. Since Pantherlily's resignation, he nominated brigadier general Doranbolt as the first captain of the royal army. He funded, and oversaw various beautification and rehabilitation projects within the city, such as the installment of a more ethical underground sewage system, and the remodeling of much of the older town structures.

He stared down his chest at his hands. _What else? _he thought.

He placed his hands side by side, to better compare them. For the most part, they were perfectly symmetrical. However, his left thumb had more wrinkles on its second joint than did his right; while his right had a small, ragged scar he could not remember getting, although he suspected it occurred during one of his more intensive sparring bouts.

The thought left him lost in rumination.

* * *

"_You won't be able to best me quite so easily as before, General Erza" called out King Mystogan as they walked their way up the bank next to the road that ran eastward from the city, to a level patch of grass._

_It was true; he had been practicing his sword fighting with several of the men from his guard on regular occasion. However, the king had only sparred with General Erza once before, where she had beaten him badly; an unpleasant memory he preferred not to dwell on. _

"_I am sure you are right," she deadpanned, perhaps to avoid crushing the king's confidence._

_Once they found a suitable spot, they took positions opposite each other, spacing themselves some thirty feet apart. Then Mystogan drew his sword, as Erza did hers. _

_She hesitated. "I would ask that you wear your helm while we spar, your Highness."_

"_Ah, watching out for my health, I see," said the king, returning his blade to its sheath. He was wearing his mail hauberk, and his greaves and bracers too, but he had stowed his helm in one of his satchels, as it was rather cumbersome to wear around, and given it to his personal handmaiden, Coco, for safekeeping. _

_He then motioned to his attendant, who hurried to his side with his satchel. "If you will," he said politely, extending out his arm to her. _

"_Of course, your Highness," said Coco, and retrieved his helm from the satchel. "Here you go, your Highness – oh, and here –" she said, handing him his gauntlets, in addition to his helm. _

"_Thank you, Coco," said Mystogan, fitting himself into his headpiece, and then carefully pulling on his gauntlets. _

_With a humble bow, Coco acknowledged her highness before retreating to her edge of the field, from where she watched, along with a small group of warriors who had wandered there to gawk at the king and the general going at it hammer and tongs._

"_Hey, wait a second, is that King Mystogan?" inquired one of them. _

"_Yeah, I think so," replied another, his voice oddly deep – thought Coco. "And look! There's General Erza!" he pointed. _

"_Uhh… shouldn't we be doing drills or something, then?"_

"_Shhhh… come on, Jayce. I don't want to miss this!"_

"_Yeah, try not to rat us out, will ya?" _

_Across from them, the king now donned his complete set of armor. "I believe I am now fully prepared, General Erza," he said to his opponent, flourishing his blade, which flashed bright and iridescent as it shimmered in the glistening sunlight. He stared through the slit in his helm into Erza's flat, empty eyes, even as she did so with him, matching the intensity of his stare with an equally great, unwavering force. She was tenacious, that he knew. Yet she possessed a profound sense of pride and professionalism that never failed to captivate him._

_Incredible, he thought in admiration. _

_The general was completely clad in black armor, her red, flaming hair billowing about in the passing gusts of wind. Contrasting her dark attire, she was wearing a thin film of white cloth around her waist, held by a belt on which she often bore her lance – Ten Commandments __–_ except for on occasions like this. Above her breastplate, a dark scarf was wrapped around her neck, whose ends hung over her back, flapping about in concert with her hair.

_Breaking from his fixation, he cleared his throat._ "_Are you choosing to skip the luxuries of wearing a helm yourself, General Erza?"_

_Her eyes narrowed. "I will not be needing one, your Highness," she replied in her usual monotone._

_It bugged him. "Very well," he said. "Let us get on with it, then."_

_A short pause elapsed._

_Then, keeping his gaze fixed on his opponent, Mystogan felt his way forward and tried to inch around Erza's right side, where he suspected that the Fairy Hunter would have more difficulty defending herself. _

_She slowly turned, crushing the grass beneath her heels as she kept her front oriented toward Mystogan. After a few more steps, he paused. She was too alert and too experienced for him to flank her; he would never catch her off balance. _

_Unless, of course, I can distract her, he thought._

_But before he could decide how to proceed, Erza feinted toward Mystogan's right leg, as if to skewer him in the knee, and then in midstroke, changed directions, twisting her wrist and arm to slash Mystogan across his chest and neck. _

_Fast as Erza was, he had caught on to her trick just in time. As he spotted the shift in her posture that betrayed her intentions, Mystogan retreated a half step while bending his elbow and whipping his sword up past his face._

"_Ha!" he shouted as he caught Erza's sword on his own, satisfaction echoing in his voice. The blades produced a piercing clang as they collided._

_He held her in that position, their swords grinding against one another, their faces merely inches apart. There was a ferocity and intentness to her expression that he was uncertain how to interpret. _

_Breaking free from their entanglement, Mystogan shoved Erza back, and then leapt after her, battering her with a series of furious blows._

_For several minutes, they danced with their swords upon the grass. Mystogan landed the first touch – a light rap on Erza's hip – and the second as well, but thereafter, their duel was more equally matched, as Erza got the measure of him and began to anticipate his patterns of attack and defense. Mystogan rarely had the opportunity to test himself against an opponent as fast or strong as General Erza, so he enjoyed the contest with her._

_His pleasure, however, vanished when Erza landed four touches in quick succession: one on Mystogan's right shoulder, two on his ribs, and a wicked cut across his abdomen. The blows smarted, but his pride smarted even more. It worried him that she had been able to slip past his guard so easily. If they had been fighting in earnest, he knew that she would have been able to best him within their first few exchanges, something to which he found unsettling. _

_Worst of all, she was probably going easy on him._

_His mood soured, a veil of doubt descending over him. He looked over at the general, who stood motionless across from him, anticipating his next move. How she managed to do it, he had not the faintest idea. She was like a machine to him, for she never seemed to tire. _

_Upon further inspection, however, he noticed the lines of fresh bruises and welts laid over her body in the places where he had struck her. _

_His eyes widened. He could hardly believe it. In fact, she was perspiring. There was no mistaking it.  
_

_A big, stupid grin overcame him. He had actually scathed her! Perhaps General Erza was not quite as untouchable as he had originally thought.  
_

_Elated at his accomplishment, he chuckled within the cover of his helm, causing a look of confusion to furrow the general's brow. _

_A second later, Mystogan grew serious again. Here I come, he thought. Then, w__ithout allowing Erza a chance to recuperate from her befuddlement, _ he charged after her, shouting war cries, the field echoing with the sounds of their furious clash. 

"_I can't tell who's winning," said one of the onlooking warriors, puzzled. "Who's winning?"_

"_King Mystogan is."_

"_What? No, obviously General Erza is!"_

"_No! King Mystogan!"_

"_General Erza!"_

_"King Mystogan!" _

_Coco, appearing on the verge of boiling over, had been trying in earnest to concentrate her attention on the ongoing bout. However, the bickering and side conversations amongst the warriors had made it quite difficult for her to do so._

_"King Mystogan!" another one shouted. _

_"General Erza!" _

_"No, King Myst__ –_"

"_WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP FOR A SECOND!"  
_

_"Yes ma'am!"_

_His sword whistled through the air, taking the form of a blur as Mystogan struck at Erza's lead thigh. Their eyes locked. A loud clang resounded as she deflected the blow. She countered with a clever twisting stab that caught him on his sword wrist and sent icy needles shooting up his arm and shoulder to the base of his skull. _

_Wincing, the king disengaged, seeking a temporary reprieve. One of the greatest challenges that came with facing General Erza in armed combat, he found, was his inability to penetrate her impervious outer shell and discern her thoughts, which therefore made her unpredictable. _

_Before he could put much distance between them, Erza sprang after him, taking two flying steps, her hair streaming behind her. Mystogan swung at her while she was still airborne, but he was sloppy, and she turned so that his sunlit sword passed along the length of her body, without touching it. Then, in a flash of steel, his blade went spiraling through the air, planting itself into the sod as Mystogan collapsed to the ground._

_"King Mystogan!" cried Coco._

_"What happened?" went the warriors. "Is he alright?"  
_

_Mystogan grunted as he landed on his back, clutching at his sword hand as the air rushed out of him. He gaped at the sky and tried to inhale, but his abdomen was cramped as hard as stone, and he could not draw air into his lungs. A constellation of crimson spots appeared before his eyes, and for a few uncomfortable seconds, he feared he would lose consciousness. Then, to his relief, his muscles released, and with a loud gasp, he resumed breathing._

_Once his head cleared, he slowly got back to his feet. Grimacing, he yanked his sword out from the ground, and leaned on it for support. He stood there hunched over at an awkward angle like an old man while he waited for the ache in his stomach to subside._

_For a second, he thought he heard General Erza make something akin to an amused sound. Perhaps he looked rather ridiculous in the big, clunky helm that he wore. He cursed himself, tearing it off and throwing it aside.  
_

_"Blast it," he muttered, clutching painfully at his hand. Then he looked up to his general and said slowly through gritted teeth, "Do I amuse you, General Erza?"_

_She did not answer, but asked, apparently oblivious to his state of health, "Do you wish to continue, your Highness?"_

_Overcome by the unbearable stinging pain that continued to pester him, the King pulled off his metal gauntlet. There, he noticed a deep, bloody cut which had taken form by his thumb.  
_

_"No..." he said breathlessly, looking down at his injured hand. "I think we're finished." _

* * *

"Your Highness," came a voice.

Shaken from his thoughts, King Mystogan shifted his attention away from his hand to see that it was Coco standing in the balcony way.

She cleared her throat and straightened her posture before speaking.

"The Council is expecting you."

Once more, Mystogan stole a glimpse over the edge of the balcony. "Yes.. Coco..," he said, a shadow descending over his features. "Inform them I will be on my way shortly."

It would be best not to keep his audience waiting.

There was much to be done.

**To Be Continued**

**Author's Note: Hey all, been a while since I've written anything. Excited to announce that wolfteam000 (Wolfy) will be working closely with me on the story. **

**Anyways, hope you all enjoy the first chapter.**


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